Private Tales The Road to Bhathairk

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The girl bristled slightly at their crass language. Sure, the guard had gotten drunk before but even their tongues weren't quite as untamed. It took her a moment to realize they were...making fun of her.

Spineless bandits.

Yes. She definitely was becoming to like Squalch the best.

Standing, she took a few steps away from the carriage, pacing between the others. It felt good to stretch her legs and be in the open air again. "Well. It's not about that. It's whether I could live with myself if I knew there was a chance. Something I could've done but not taken the risk. What kind of person would I be, then?"

Eislyn didn't correct the bearded barbarian on the point of a boyfriend. It was probably better that he thought that. Her sister being so ill was not her secret to tell. Eislyn wanted to protect her family, in more ways than one.
 
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"You'd be alive, for starters," Erling grumbled. Weren't the aristocracy supposed to be educated? Sensible?

This was anything but.

"Where'd you find out about this stupid plant, anyway?" Erling said, "What makes you think it's real? You believe everything you hear about?"

Erling had read plenty of quack books in his day, all by a bunch of so-called "travelers" claiming to have done things, seen creatures, traversed wastelands. The first dolts to pretend to have been to Nagai wrote about beautiful bird women living there. How many literate bastards got themselves killed when the bird women turned out to be serpent men?

Probably just as many were like to get themselves killed looking for some make-believe plant no one had ever seen.

A fly buzzed by Agnar's face, and Squalch's tongue shot three feet out and nabbed it from the air before it could land. Agnar flinched.
 
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And there it was. He asked the question worth its weight in gold baubles. It brought too many fresh memories back. Raw.

There was a sudden sharp sting alone her eyes. Perhaps her trials and tribulations were catching up with her. She was exhausted. Hungry. Thirsty.

Scared.

And suddenly the ground was very interesting. Though, she was impressed with Squalch's precision.

"I heard about it from my mother. She was a great healer."
 
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Erling raised an eyebrow. "Was?"

Erling might have been educated enough to pick up on that past-tense, but for Agnar and Kjar it was a different story. Both men continued their diatribe without a second thought. Squalch, rather loudly, swallowed the captured fly.

"Oh, so your mother saw the 'ittle flower itself, did she?" Agnar said, "Rowed herself all the way to Nagai and back, just didn't take any with her?"

Kjar's laugh came out in a steady, ugly hiss. "Sounds like she's pulling your leg, girly. Don't you got any footmen where you're from? Money? Why don't your parents just send someone else to get it?"

Probably because most people would rather desert than wind up dead in a jungle. Or because they were smart enough to know it wasn't real, but not smart enough to realize filling an impressionable princess' heads with this kind of tomfoolery would see her off to get killed. This was getting to be a tiring conversation, and Erling felt like cutting it short.

"That's enough," Erling said loudly, drawing the attention of both men. "She's like to pass out. Squalch, take her to camp and keep her there. We've still got to deal with the caravan"

Like he'd trust either of those other jokers to be left alone with a lady. Squalch croaked in the affirmative. Whether or not she needed to be tied up, Erling would leave to Squalch's discretion. Bullywugs did not sleep as often as humanoids did, so he'd probably be fine.

Hitting the caravan while down a man would be difficult, but Erling had dealt with worse for comparatively little gain. Even if she were off her rocker, Eislyn Gray was still worth a lot of money.
 
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Long-sleeved arm came to rub across her sticky brow. Wet strands of sunlight-colored hair stuck across her face. Caravan? She looked up, determined to keep the tears from leaking from her eyes. Squalch hopped forward and reached up a green-hand to tug along the extra fabric of her dress. A deep, croaking ribbot left his throat.

The girl couldn't help but look over her shoulder at the road from where she and her party had just come from. If she squinted, she imagined she could see some dust being ground up just on the horizon. Perhaps that would offer an escape opportunity.

For now, she let the frog-man lead her farther away from what was her iron prison. At least she hadn't been locked back there again. Frowning, she cast once last glance at the bearded barbarian. What had she heard his men call him?

Erling.
 
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The campsite itself was sparse. Four bedrolls positioned around a fire, plus three horses tied up. They themselves were dosing and, regardless of whether Eislyn Gray fell asleep or not, Squalch was still wide awake. He sat on a big rock, arms folded, beady eyes trained on the area the rest of the bandits would inevitably come marching through.

Several hours would pass before Erling, Kjar, and Agnar came trudging through the forest. The pouches of crossbow bolts the men carried were now empty. Erling himself was still scrubbing viscera off of his sword with a bloody rag once he stomped through the treeline and into the campsite, muttering to himself.

"I've never seen a person half as big as that Orc," he complained.

Kjar brushed his face, moving his sweat-slicked hair back and out of his eyes. "What's it matter? You still got him."

"No thanks to either of you fucks," Erling replied, then spit blood and saliva into a nearby fern.

All three men immediately went for their horses, stowing away various loot they had picked up from the caravan.
 
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Eislyn had managed to get her pack and bedroll from where her would-be-knights had stowed it along her capture. The princess felt rather bedraggled, hungry, and exhausted. But she didn't trust these highwaymen. Why would she? She'd escaped one set of captors only to be found with another.

From the frying pan to the fire.

Thought of escape of course crossed her mind. She doubted she could outrun the frog creature in her dress. And all the horses from her caravan had run away.

Bedroll and pack sat at her feet. She perched on a log, upturned hand holding up her drooping head. Mild disgust crossed her fair features as the barbarians slugged back into camp, covered in some very foul smelling fluids. It wasn't the fluids that bothered the royal/part-time healer. It was their mannerisms. Glee at their kill and hasty greed.

Monsters.

Squalch croaked. Probably wondering where his cut was since he had to stay behind. Gray eyes silently watched them, especially that bearded one. Erling, right? Looking away, she reached down and began rummaging in her pack.

Erling Thenn
 
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"Yeah, yeah," Kjar said in response to Squalch, tossing the uppity frog a rather heavy-looking coin purse.

Squalch caught it with a single hand and croaked to signal his satisfaction. He let his spear rest in the crook of his arm as he widened the pouch. He stuck his spindly, green fingers inside and sifted through the coinage. He did not make another sound, save to hop off his rock and onto his bedroll. Squalch did not lay down so much as he... Perched. On all fours. Sort of like a cat. It was quite weird.

After a minute, his eyes slowly closed and his breathing slowed. Bullywugs. Weird things.

Few words were shared between Erling and the rest as they went about their business, except when Erling announced that he'd get first watch (since he already did "everything fucking else, might as well do that too"). Kjar and Agnar took conservative bites out of trail rations and swigged from flasks, then settled into their bedrolls and appeared to sleep.

Erling sat himself down, leaning against a tree far off from Eislyn. He noticed, then, that she had her own backpack and roll. The Sculptor arched an eyebrow. "You packed a bag to get kidnapped?"
 
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Gray-blues flickered up in brief amusement at Squalch. Hands pulled out a small bag of dried meat and fruits. Shy-gaze settled on Erling as he turned his attentions toward her. Eyes flickered to the other, slumbering men and she briefly wondered if she'd be able to outrun someone like Erling.

That thought quickly buried itself, for now.

"I told you I was betrayed." She took a mouse-like bite of the food and nibbled quietly.

"That was my head guard. He'd promised to help me on my journey. I was prepared for the long journey," eyes flickered to her pack and back up to Erling. "Just not prepared to ride bound in a wagon in the opposite direction I wanted to go." She shrugged, flicking some of that long, blonde hair over one of her shoulders.

It seemed like the princess was still in that predicament.

"Have you always been in the robbery business, Erling?" It may have seemed like a mocking question but it was actually sincere. Eislyn knew she didn't know much about the world outside the Iron Fortress walls and she was curious. And perhaps she hoped to win him over to her side.
 
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She was really going to go to Nagai with, like, two dudes and a tiny knapsack. Erling had been hoping for a hint of self-awareness, perhaps outraged defensiveness, but no. Not a thing. Just a simple explanation. Which meant that Eislyn was really, truly, absolutely insane. Seemed that was what too much coddling did to people. Keep them from the world long enough, they got all sorts of crazy ideas. Imagination and all that.

"That was your head guard?" Erling asked. Shucks. If he had known that, the guy probably would have gotten a nice ransom too. Maybe have a nice ransom-one-get-one with the King of the Iron Fortress. Ah well. No sense crying over spilled blood.

He snorted when she asked about his career choices. Robbery business? Pshaw. "I'm not a robber." Erling paused to work his jaw, still sore from where the Orc had clocked him. "Robbers keep the stuff they rob. Folks pay me to rob people for them, see? And then I turn over what I get to them. I'm what you'd call a freelance... Wealth redistributor."

Erling scratched his beard, and all manner of unseemly particles came loose from it. It was nice to, occasionally, dress up his banditry in fancy words. Not like his fancy education was doing him much good in any other aspect.
 
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Pfft. More like four dudes. Probably.

"Doesn't matter how you dress it up. You take from others. But I wonder."

She put the food away and stood, rolling out her bedroll. Then she eased down on top of it, wincing slightly. He'd shoved her quite hard earlier. And that had really hurt.

"You give away your plunder. What's in it for you? How do you make your coin?"

She began to stretch out on her back, face turned toward the stars that were beginning to peak out between the branches of the trees they were under. Atleast the stars were familiar. That was a small comfort.
 
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"I get paid a flat fee," Erling said, snickering. "The plunder is nice, but resale is hard. Y'know? Repossessed goods and all that."

Stolen goods, but she probably got the picture. Crazy didn't necessarily mean stupid, though a case could always be made. Maybe later.

"Sometimes merchants need their rivals to fail. Like, for instance, a trade caravan goes missing and all the caravaneers killed. Nasty stuff. Costs the merchant a fortune. Might sink his business," Erling cracked his neck. "The loot I give to these guys. They'll drift someplace else and find a way to sell it. I collect my reward when I get back to Bhathairk with proof of the job being done."

His fee would be a lot nicer than whatever Kjar, Agnar, and Squalch ended up with. No need to get into the details of that when they were so close by, regardless of whether they might be sleeping.
 
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So her suspicions were confirmed. He was the ringleader. The brains of this little party. She'd already guessed, considering the men followed his orders.

Though begrudgingly at times. Except for Squalch.

The girl couldn't hide her distaste when he described killing so easily. To waste lives like that. All for profit. It made her stomach churn. She turned to her side, so her back was to Erling.

"Have you always done this? Does killing come so easily to you?" Voice was quiet, fingers plucking the grass by her bedding.
 
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Erling ran his tongue along his teeth, lingering over the broken ones. "You're not trying to get a sympathetic story out of me, are you?"

In some circles, it might have been sympathetic. Maybe a little sad. But Erling was no longer part of those circles, so it only annoyed him to be brought up.

"No, I have not," he eventually grumbled. "You get used to it."

It was an acquired taste, like everything else. Or maybe the bitterness of it it just got more tolerable the longer he went on killing folks. Hard to tell; harder to care. Most people would kill Erling without a second thought and for less gain - a lot of people nearly had - so why shouldn't he do the same?

"I'm sure that's all very upsetting to hear, but you'll need to kill a whole lot of Naga if you're going to get anywhere near their island. Better get ready for it now."
 
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She frowned, back still turned to Erling. He had a point. Although, Eislyn was a girl who'd try to find a way besides killing. But when it came to save her sister? She wondered if she'd be able to do something like that? Of course, the princess had no idea what she'd be getting into in Nagai.

Hands pulled up the blanket around her shoulders.

She offered Erling no more conversation. She was tired. And even though she wanted to stay awake, she quickly fell asleep. She told herself she'd wake up in time.

In time to try and escape. It just depended who was on watch. But Erling seemed smarter than he looked. If he happened to still be on watch or if she didn't time it right, she knew she wouldn't get far.
 
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Wouldn't you know it, the lot of them were early risers.

Eislyn would gradually wake up to the sounds of the men packing up camp, occasionally snickering and making snide comments about her being a heavy sleeper. At some point Erling divided up the money and loot from the caravan. It seemed Kjar and Squalch got the lion's share. The benefits of being a package deal.

There was another argument over what to do with her - as one would expect - but it ended after a few punches were exchanged. Agnar called Erling "a greedy cunt", but that seemed to be the end of it. Once the lot of them had mounted their horses and ridden off, Erling rapped his sword harshly against a tree.

"Rise and shine, princess."